


Memories

by CheerfullyCynical



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, It's pain time folks, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerfullyCynical/pseuds/CheerfullyCynical
Summary: The memories came violently, in her sleep at first, in the form of vicious nightmares, and then in her waking mind – people she knew, a person shewas, standing in front of her, sayingthingsthat she had said butdidn’t. The memories of her past lives were persistent, and not understandable, and shehatedthem.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Memories

The hours seemed liked days in the Doctor’s prison cell.

It was the only thing she could think of as she watched yet another star fly by. The large nebulas and barely recognizable constellations were the only glimpse of the universe she could see, and even then they felt like they weren’t enough. She had never been far from her TARDIS – never this long – and the urge to sit and watch the universe weave its tale, to be a part of that story, was even more nagging than ever before.

She closed her eyes. The small bit of sky she could see was too little to enjoy – too little to be impressive. Seeing them felt like reaching for an unattainable goal, one that was so easy before and now impossible.

She tried to escape. Truly. It had been so easy getting out the cell, and even easier sneaking pass the guards. What was harder was getting off the ship. One-way transports onto the ship. Many escape pods, all bio-locked against any prisoner. An autopilot with no manual options that would take too long to hack.

Escaping her cell was easy, getting of the prison was another unattainable beauty.

She stared at the silver, blank wall in front of her. The one to the other side had already been etched with random words, random phases, things to pass the time as she avoided the past. She could handle the isolation, the loneliness, because there was no place she could go – no way for her to become _The Oncoming Storm_ when there was nothing for her to destroy.

The only thing to destroy in this cell was herself.

And the cell itself.

The wall she was resting her back against was a testament to that.

It was little things at first that started the destruction – waking up took longer than normal, yawning became a new pastime, weak limbs became familiar, dark circles under her eyes formed, and then…Then, the memories came.

They came violently, in her sleep at first, in the form of vicious nightmares, and then in her waking mind – people she knew, a person she _was,_ standing in front of her, saying _things_ that she had said but _didn’t._ The memories of her past lives were persistent, and not understandable, and she _hated_ them.

She hated them so much she had tried to seal her own mind – putting blocks upon locks upon weapons around the seeping pile of memories – around a wound so large and grotesque that it physically hurt as the memories built upon themselves, trying to escape.

Thus, the wall behind her.

It was a word, at first. Her name, her first name, over and over again, in a language she did not know but could read. It wasn’t the familiar swirls and circles of Gallifreyian, but instead sharp lines that zig-zagged in every place, overlapping.

She had bloodied her fingernails in her sleep, but the pain did not stop her from scratching out her own sleep-written writing. Her suspenders were ripped off next, breaking them, using the metal as a pencil to carve away the evidence.

The tears had mixed with the metal shavings, making it sparkle. It reminded her of the stars outside, also so small.

She hadn’t slept or eaten for three weeks after that. She refused.

Only when the stern image of Ruth stood in front of her, real as her eyes could tell, did the Doctor lash out. She had jumped upon her, screaming, demanding to know what she knew, only for her hands and knees to crash upon harsh metal.

Furious, tears in her eyes, she had pounded at it, just as she had punched her way through diamond. The pain in her knuckles, bloodied and bruised, was nothing compared to the agony in her hearts.

The guards had sedated her, and the forced sleep had led to even more horrors.

Her sleeping self had again taken up writing on the wall. Her name, dozens of times, and now with a warning. _“Run.”_

She had a vague hope that Tecteun had cared for her – had imagined someone that, yes, was scientist, but was also a mother. She had thought the regenerations during Tecteun’s experiments had been pure accident – now, however, she could not be sure.

How many lives did Tecteun destroy to get her answer?

She released the memories when she found herself obsessed with the question. Every option, every thought, led to more questions, and the price of not knowing the answers would be insanity.

The memories had left her unconscious for days. She learned she had children, had a family, and a person she loved in every life. It was easy, according to the Division, to manipulate her when she cared for so many. Threaten her child’s life, her husband, her wife, her best friend, once and she would do anything to keep them safe.

Her hearts had never changed with every regeneration, only her memories.

She had so many people she loved, so many she cared for, and now… Now none of them thought she was alive. Almost all of them were gone – lost in a time and place that she could not go.

Every life they had made her love someone. Even the Master had played the role of her friend – her lover, her partner, her enemy – to a script. If she had any hope that their relationship was purely from them… It was gone.

Every life had felt real – every person she loved had felt real. They couldn’t take that away from her.

The wall grew: _“Run.” “Theta.” “Lover.” “Doctor.” “Friend.” “Enemy.” “Solider.”_

Then, one day, a new word, written in big letters in the center of her madding scribbles.

One word that took her days to decipher. And, when it did, she could not breath.

_“Koschei.”_

_His_ name, surrounded by _her_ words. Her entire essence, everything she was, _the Doctor,_ connected by the person she loved. She may have loved someone else in every life, but it was _this_ life that she loved Koschei.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to have the person she trusted the most, loved the most, be the person that hated her.

That had tried to break her – _was_ breaking her.

Months spent in a cell, and after coming to that realization, the only dreams she had were of his youthful eyes, filled with love.

The memories came to her in headaches now, after months of vivid nightmares: Glimpses of other times, freezing her in place, limbs locking as she rode a wave of a lifetime’s worth of hate and love. It may have been five minutes in the real word, but it was years in her mind.

She wondered if she was finally becoming her oldest friend – if she, too, had lost her the battle with sanity. She thought of crumbling to it, letting the real world cease to exist, but she was too stubborn to let the Division break her once again.

Amid another onslaught of memories…

The Master appeared.

Breathing heavily, limbs shaky, and _so tired,_ she had stared at him as he studied her – those eyes more telling than any regeneration of his. He looked so real, just as the others had.

“Figures,” She said to him, because talking to them was easy then letting them study her silently, “Go on, then. Tell me what I’ve done – tell me the mistakes I made, the family I’ve lost. Go on, I’ve heard it all.”

She tried to put a finger to her temple, but her arm didn’t move, stuck to her leg. She was too weak. She laughed, loudly, wondering how the Division would re-train her.

No. She wasn’t with the Division anymore. They were gone.

“Come with me.”

The Doctor didn’t dare look at him. He sounded real – the tilt of his voice, the calm words filled with undertones of threats… It sounded like him, talked like him, cared and didn’t like him…But it was only in her mind.

She turned her head away, sighing, eyes looking past his legs and to her least favorite wall. _“Enemy”_ was the only word she could see. It fit.

“Doctor.” The image, the memory, of the Master said, and she bit her tongue, tasting blood. 

A tear fell down her face. She didn’t acknowledge it.

He walked in front of her. She was so sure she could hear his footsteps echo in the small room, but she knew that it was only her hopeful imagination. She was so tired of being hopeful.

The Master was nice to look at this time around – it was the eyes that did it, so wide, so filled with emotion. Missy had the same eyes. The Doctor could see exactly what Missy had felt, could watch tears fall, and still be distrustful. This regeneration of the Doctor though? No, she took everything he didn’t say right to her hearts.

“I loved you,” She said to those eyes, just because she could, “I really, really loved you. I forgave you every time, for whatever you did, no matter how naive it was – how stupid I was.”

His eyes always gave him away – they held no malice, only pain. “I loved you, as well.”

“Maybe.” She replied, putting her head against the wall, looking away once again, even as the memory of her old friend sat down next to her.

More memories were coming. She could feel it in the tingling of her fingers, in the numbness in her legs. She winced, wishing she had some control, knowing it was a fool’s hope.

“Do you think…” She asked, just as her vision tunneled, “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

_A field, red dirt, vegetables of all kinds for as long as the eye could see. Rushing water, a child’s laughter, and her wife’s smile. Her baby girl, crying and then laughing, beautiful and perfect. Then, the war. Losing her friend’s, losing her home to raiders._

_The Division took her away after she lost everything. They had gotten the info they sent her out for. After all, knowing all of history was the key to a perfect society._ That _was her purpose._

She came back to with a gasp, shivering, barely able to breathe as the images faded away, as her love for that time grew stronger. She had loved her life there – loved her friends and family. Her love didn’t fade like the memories. It only hurt more.

Her head was on something soft, something unfamiliar, and she nestled into it, happy to ignore how unfeasible it was. She opened her clenched fist, slowly – in and out – making numb fingers come back to life. Her arms came next, painful, and she used the time to rub harshly at her eyes, staring out the window to admire the stars.

The Doctor would always admire the stars.

“I didn’t want this.”

The Doctor startled. The memory, the images of people, they always left after her ‘episode.’ This particular one, the hallucination of her friend, had of course been the one to stay. He always loved to torment her.

Then, the words registered.

“I want to believe that.” She whispered, “I wished I believed that.”

Her friend was gone – the Division had destroyed him just as much as it destroyed her. The drums, the manipulation, her love… It had poisoned him. He could be so much more.

Her hallucination moved. His entire body shifted, looking down at her, tears in his eyes. The Master would never cry for her. He moved his hand, slowly, bringing fingertips just to her temple.

He touched her, moving stray hairs away, and the Doctor stopped.

 _Relief._ It was the only emotion she could equate to the rushing of blood to her ears, to the thundering of hearts in her chest. Numb legs became solid, and she picked herself up, just now realizing she was using his thigh as a pillow.

His hand followed her movements, cupping her face, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away tears long gone.

“Doctor.” He said, reverently, like her name was the only thing holding him together.

Not thing – the only _person_ holding him together.

Not matter what he had done, what hurts he had done to her, she found serenity in him. She dragged him into a hug, clinging tightly to him, scared he would let go – scared he would leave her in her misery, just to see how far she could break.

Instead, arms wrapped around her, and he rocked her, back and forth, and he too clung to her – like letting her go would be his death. They were like that for far too long – longer than the universe would probably allow them.

Still, when they pulled apart, the Doctor wasn’t capable of facing reality. She couldn’t bring herself to smile – couldn’t even bring herself to lift her head off his shoulder. If this was another trick, either by her own mind or his, she didn’t want to know.

Let there be peace in her life, wrapped in the arms of someone she loved, just for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that was stuck in my head. Idk why but I love the idea of the Doctor's memories of her old life kind of... Haunting her. And, of course, I love the idea of the Master helping her through them. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> As always, if you need someone to talk to, wanna rant about Doctor who, or just wanna follow a new blog, I'm over on tumblr at cheerfullycynicalfandom.tumblr.com


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